The last man in the suit slightly caught Fukuzawa’s attention. There was nothing about his appearance that really stood out. He was your run-of-the-mill kind of guy. He wore a navy suit with a broad-brimmed bowler hat and held a T-shaped cane in one hand. He was reminiscent of the typical Western gentleman. It wasn’t clear what about him bothered Fukuzawa, exactly, but there were a few things that made him suspicious. He was sitting in the front row, he sat up completely straight and didn’t fidget in the least, and his overcoat was slightly large for his overly skinny appearance.
Upon closer inspection, the man had a piercing gaze contrary to his gentlemanlike appearance, almost as if he were looking inside the actors. They were the eyes of a predator, like a hawk or leopard moments before pouncing on its prey. One thing was for sure; they were not the eyes of someone enjoying the play. Was the large overcoat being used to hide a weapon? Was the cane in his hand a sword cane? Fukuzawa would be able to stop him from this position if the man were to commence a surprise attack, but…
Fukuzawa quietly measured the distance with his gaze. He played out every move the enemy could make in his mind and calculated. That was when…
“Hey, can I ask you something?” asked Ranpo suddenly. “Everyone here paid money to see this, right?”
“No talking during the show,” scolded Fukuzawa. However…
“Why would anyone pay to watch a story this predictable?” asked Ranpo. He looked incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.
Fukuzawa had a bad feeling about this.
“I mean, even the twist is so predictable! That’s the murderer! Even a child wouldn’t need more than five minutes to figure it out!”
The people sitting on both sides of Fukuzawa and Ranpo began to mutter to themselves in annoyance, but Ranpo paid no heed.
“The reason he got to be with the protagonist at the time of the first murder was because he used a candle as a time delay for the trigger! There were only two candles! You saw it with your own eyes, right, old guy?”
A small commotion began to grow around Ranpo. The actor onstage was glancing at him as well.
“Ugh! You’re so stupid! That guy you’re turning to for help is the killer! You still have the first picture you took, right? You’d be able to see he’s the killer if you just looked at it! Why are you dawdling?”
A few audience members began to whisper.
“What’s wrong with that boy?”
“But… Wait. That’s the killer? No way.”
“It would all make sense if he is, though, right?”
“Stop,” Fukuzawa lightly chided Ranpo.
But Ranpo continued.
“Oh, great. Just great. The two who went to the cargo room are gonna be killed next because they just happened to see the spider’s web that could have been used as evidence. Now just watch. The killer’s going to make up some excuse to leave the room like he needs to get the map or something. Ugh! Don’t let him get away!”
Ranpo stomped his feet on the ground in an aggravated manner. Almost immediately…
“I’ll go get the map,” said the character onstage as he disappeared behind the wing curtain.
“See?! This is so aggravating!”
The commotion started to get louder.
“No way. That’s the killer?”
“B-but he’s such a good guy… Why?”
“Was everything he said to his girlfriend just a lie?”
The whispers began to spread from seat to seat. Fukuzawa’s stomach pains were only getting worse.
“That’s enough. Some things you just need to keep to yourself,” demanded Fukuzawa with a little force.
“Why? Why is everyone watching this show? It’s so aggravating!” Ranpo’s eyes were ablaze with fury. “Seriously, why? It makes no sense to me. I don’t understand anyone! Why are adults like this? Why is everyone like this? Someone, just tell me why!” he shouted.
This outburst didn’t just come out of nowhere. Doubt and stress had been swelling inside him for the longest time, waiting to explode.
“I don’t understand what anyone’s thinking! I’m scared! It feels like I’m surrounded by monsters! It doesn’t matter what I say—nobody understands me! My parents were the only ones who did, and they’re dead!”
This time, he was screaming—an anguished lamentation aimed at nowhere in particular. The protagonist onstage was begging the skill user, who was nowhere to be found, to save them. As the protagonist cried for help, so did Ranpo.
“If there’s a skill user here, save me! If there’s an angel, then save me! Why must I be alone?! Why do I have to live alone in the middle of a bunch of monsters?”
“Enough!”
Fukuzawa grabbed on to Ranpo with both hands. Ranpo glared back at him with clear animosity in his eyes.
“I’ll tell you why. I’ll tell you what you want to know, so just stop.”
“…”
Ranpo didn’t say a word. Just then, the stage got dark, and lights began to shine one by one over the audience.
“We will now be having a fifteen-minute intermission. Part two will begin at six twenty.”
A broadcast sounded throughout the entire theater.
Fukuzawa thought back to the program. He’d almost forgotten there was going to be a break in the middle of the show.
Shadowy figures began standing and chatting.
“Come with me.”
Fukuzawa took Ranpo’s hand, but Ranpo was in a foul mood and looked away without even budging.
“Now!”
After forcing Ranpo out of his seat, Fukuzawa dragged him out of the auditorium.
They walked over to a few square seats in the lobby away from the crowd. Ranpo was sitting, albeit sulking, while Fukuzawa was standing right in front of him. Ranpo was fidgeting with his sleeves, so upset he couldn’t sit still. Fukuzawa watched him without saying a word. Before long, five minutes of unchanging silence had passed.
“Okay,” muttered Ranpo as if he couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Get it over with. Give me your lecture. I’ve been chewed out like this by tons of people at my past jobs, so I know it’s coming. I know what you’re going to say, too.”
“You’re surprisingly self-aware,” noted Fukuzawa, his voice low.
“I’m gonna be scolded because I did something wrong, right? If so, then it’d actually make me feel a little better. It’s an easy concept to grasp.”
“…You’re right.”
Fukuzawa pondered. He wasn’t a person who could teach something to this kid. He had always avoided giving guidance to others his entire life. This was the first time he ever regretted that. Fukuzawa had to tell him something. This teenager was at the edge of the cliff, leaning forward.
“Tell me about your parents.” Fukuzawa made sure to select his words wisely. “Did they say anything about your gift?”
“My ‘gift’?” Ranpo furrowed his brow. “I wouldn’t be having trouble finding a job right now if I had a gift.”
“Then… Did they say anything to you about your future?”
“Uh… My father always said, ‘One day, you’re going to surpass your mother and me, and you’re going to win the admiration of all those around you. But now’s not that time. Stay humble and keep your silence. Always be modest. Just quietly observe and don’t hurt others with what you discover.’ …Or something like that. I don’t really know what he meant, though.”
I figured.
Fukuzawa quietly nodded.
So his father knew, after all. He understood that Ranpo possessed an extraordinary gift. He knew his son had the special ability to observe, remember, and uncover the truth in the blink of an eye. That was why he sealed it away. He didn’t want Ranpo to go astray, to ever hurt others and make the world his enemy. His father wanted Ranpo to learn virtue and what’s right just like any ordinary person until he had grown up with good judgment and knowledge.
He was protecting him, creating a transparent cocoon to protect
his extraordinary gift from this strange world. Ranpo’s parents raised him like an ordinary child. What an astounding deed that must have been. How difficult it must have been to convince him that the world he saw was normal and nothing he knew was anything other than common sense. But Ranpo’s parents did that with their extraordinary minds. What was such a feat, if not unconditional love? But long before Ranpo had fully matured—far before Ranpo was ready for the world—they departed this life. An immature yet gifted larva was stripped of his cocoon and abandoned.
The palms of Fukuzawa’s clenched fists began to sweat. No matter how strong his opponent was, he never experienced fear like this. The larva was without shelter. He was only moments away from being crushed by the outside world. If Fukuzawa didn’t use just the right amount of force, then the damage would be irreparable. While hesitant, Fukuzawa finally spoke up.
“You…have a gift. A gift to observe and deduce. Nobody has ever figured out my past job. Nobody knew who really killed the president of that company other than you. You’re special, Ranpo, and if you so desire, you will become a greater mind than even your parents.”
“As if.” Ranpo immediately shot down the claim. “My parents were amazing. There’s no surpassing them to reach the top because they were the top. Neither of them ever told me once that I had a gift, and I believe them.”
He was stubborn. The protective wall his parents created was thick. That wall protected Ranpo from a world of ordinary people who would fear and fail to understand him, yes, but it was also what rendered him unable to step into the outside world.
“During the play, you were able to guess who the killer was,” Fukuzawa continued. “And at that point in the performance, you were probably the only one in the audience who had. I myself didn’t know until I finished the script.”
“Huh?” Ranpo gave a distinctly inquiring look. “Don’t lie to me. If I figured it out, surely an adult would have no problem.”
The discussion was going in circles. He didn’t understand others because he didn’t think he was special. He didn’t think he was special because he didn’t understand others, which only confirmed what his parents had told him. It was unyielding logic that fed off each other, and the only way to break through was to shine light on something completely new.
Something different.
A new factor that Ranpo hadn’t even thought of.
“Tell me this.” Fukuzawa persevered. “Have you ever thought the people around you were stupid? That they were a bunch of fools who didn’t understand a thing?”
“…”
Ranpo sent Fukuzawa a skeptical glance, and a few moments went by before he answered.
“…I have.”
“That’s it. Believe in that feeling. You have a gift, but everyone else is a fool, including me. The reason why you’re all alone is because of your talents. Utilize them. There’s nothing you can’t do.”
“Don’t think you can control me with a few compliments.” Ranpo slightly averted his gaze. “My mother told me to never look down on others. Besides, why would only I be special? There are so many people in the city, so why would I be the only special one?”
“That’s because…”
I’m almost there. I can’t allow myself to mess up now.
The time for decision was near. Fukuzawa wasn’t an eloquent speaker. He wasn’t someone who could manipulate others with his words. There was only one card left up his sleeve that he could play.
Sincerity.
“You were right,” admitted Fukuzawa. “I used to carry a sword at my waist. From an early age, I trained at a government-run school of martial arts. I was one of the five greatest swordsmen in the government, known as Goken. I truly thought my sword was for the peace and welfare of the nation… And I killed for that belief.”
Fukuzawa stared off into the distance. Ranpo carefully observed his expressions.
“Assassinations were extremely simple. I had an overwhelming advantage, and not even once had I ever struggled in battle. It started to frighten me when I noticed I was looking forward to my next mission. I no longer knew if I was killing for the country or killing for the enjoyment of it. That was when I decided to permanently lay down my sword.”
Fukuzawa remained calm as he spoke.
Why am I telling him this? Why am I telling this kid something I’ve never told anyone before?
But the words continuously crawled out of the depths of his heart and poured out of his mouth.
“Power must be kept in check. Power that cannot be controlled must be discarded. If you refuse to acknowledge your gift, you are no different from the bloodthirsty man I used to be. You must recognize your talents, especially now that your parents are gone.”
Fukuzawa yearned to speak more eloquently. He didn’t need the ability to fire up an entire crowd, or even the sort of inane flattery that could rouse the populace. All he wanted was to be able to tell a little white lie so that this kid could see the simple truth.
“I get what you’re saying, but…” Ranpo scowled hard at Fukuzawa while remaining seated. “But—then tell me. What am I? What were my parents telling me? Make me understand why I’m here—why I’m like this. If you can do that, then I’ll believe you.”
Ranpo was no longer sulking. Instead, he was honestly looking for an answer—something he’d never done before. And Fukuzawa was the only one who could give it to him.
“The intermission is about to end. Please return to your seats.”
The announcement played over the intercom. The few people around started to walk away and head back to their seats, and Ranpo was already looking toward the small crowd.
Fukuzawa didn’t have much time. If he let this chance go by, Ranpo would probably never seek answers again.
“That’s because…”
Fukuzawa paused midsentence.
Anything. Anything would do. He just needed to say something.
He had already used the ace up his sleeve: sincerity. He wasn’t good at persuading others or speaking eloquently, either. He was even worse at lying. Just then…Fukuzawa suddenly caught sight of the script rolled up in Ranpo’s hand. The troupe had given it to him, but he hadn’t made it past the first paragraph before getting bored. As if by reflex, Fukuzawa said:
“Because you’re a skill user.”
Ranpo seemed perplexed. “…What?”
“A skill user,” repeated Fukuzawa. Even he still wasn’t exactly sure what he was saying. “The reason you’re special is because you’re a skill user. Your skill awakened when your parents died. That’s…that’s precisely it.”
“A skill user…? Why?”
Ranpo’s eyes darted about in abject confusion. This was essentially the first time Fukuzawa had experienced something like this in his life. More precisely—he had never spoken so impulsively.
“It’s all because of your skill. You can see the truth with nothing more than a simple glance. They spoke about it in the play, right? There are people in this world who possess supernatural abilities. And skills don’t always make the possessor happy. Yours is the reason why you’re in pain and why everyone seems like a monster.”
“…???” Ranpo was at a loss. He blinked in silent confusion.
“You have to control your skill.”
Fukuzawa gave thanks to his daily training. He had no idea what he was saying, but his heart was racing, and cold sweat dripped from his palms. Nevertheless, his expression was completely still. It was as if he were reading the newspaper just as he always did. Any hesitation in a fight with real swords could lead to death. The enemy must never get the chance to observe your eyes and predict your next move. That was why Fukuzawa was naturally able to keep a straight face, even if he was feeling anguished or terrified. Put simply, Fukuzawa was playing cool.
“You are a skill user, therefore you’re special. To prove that, I’ll teach you how to control that skill. You’ll be able to freely utilize it with the help of a certain item. And with that item, you will l
earn how to control this skill that brings you such pain.”
“…?? A ‘certain item’? Like what…?”
Leaning forward, Ranpo tilted his head to the side.
I haven’t thought that far yet.
Fukuzawa’s eyes wandered around the room in search of a hint.
Anything will do. Is there nothing here? There has to be something that can make Ranpo focus. Something…
His hand lightly brushed against his pocket.
That’s it.
“This.” Fukuzawa whipped something out of his pocket.
“What the…? Glasses?”
“It was a gift given to me by a well-known noble in Kyoto.”
I lied. It was dead stock from the neighborhood general store.
“When you wear these, your skill will be activated, and you will be able to immediately see the truth. On the other hand, when you’re not wearing them, you will no longer care about how foolish those around you are. Here, they’re yours.”
“…Okay…” Ranpo accepted the black-framed glasses as if he had no idea what was going on. “These look like ordinary cheap glasses to me…”
He’s got that right.
“Of course they would, since you didn’t even know that skills existed until earlier today.” Fukuzawa quietly took in a deep breath.
“Uh-huh… So do I put them on?”
Ranpo unfolded the temples, then lowered his head and started to put on the glasses when—
“Haaah!”
—Fukuzawa let out a battle cry, and Ranpo immediately lost consciousness. It was an energy blast, as before, but the scale and directionality were different this time. It was a chi attack normally used in life-and-death battles, but Fukuzawa had utilized it to knock Ranpo out. Even a highly trained martial artist’s head would go blank and lose control of their body in the face of such an attack, so a teenager like Ranpo stood no chance.
Ranpo was unconscious while still holding the glasses to his face. He collapsed into his chair, and the impact caused the glasses to completely latch around his ears.
The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency Page 12
